Headed by a Snake

Zashleigh Yates kept a steady gaze on Selvia.

She was a proud woman. They didn't always get along well, because of it.

But pride had no say in Zeta Squad's current situation.

Selvia had returned from even deeper behind enemy lines, bringing back news despite being injured.

The fact that she chose to run instead of going Super-Selvie meant she had no choice.

There were some very dangerous individuals in Making... and not all of them were Witches.

"So I'm pretty sure..." Selvia began, "I found what I'm thinkin' is one o' the city's Shield Relays. It's up yonder a ways-- east and north."

"What the--" Dessi frowned, "But that's good news? That's our freakin' mission objective!"

"Well, it would be," Selvia said with a forced smile-- "that is, if the place weren't covered with folks itchin' fer a good, ol' fashioned Witch-hunt."

Zash crossed her arms in thought, "I'm assuming there's no obvious vantage point where we could post Heartsong and have her rain fire and f*ckery?"

"Wish there was," Selvia shrugged.

"And it seems McPurpleface is patrolling out of that area?" Heartsong added with a wry smile.

"S'what it looks like," Selvia said with a sigh.

Zash went through the situation in her head.

If the enemy's shields were hastily erected, then Heartsong's fire magic could easily burn through them.

But... the streets of Making weren't as wide as the ones in Archangel... and Heartsong's magic was highly volatile to her surroundings.

This was a problem because, historically, Witches tended to be highly flammable.

Prior to the deployment, Heartsong spent weeks training with Barnes, the former suppressing the frantic nature of her flames and the latter, adjusting her barriers to better reject the heat.

Unfortunately, Barnes was hit by the same dragonfire attack that was killing Lane.

It was horrible luck that their squad's Barrier Mage had yet to regain consciousness... but, judging by Lane's painful seizures and coughing fits, that might have been for the best.

It was just...

--without Barnes casting ⌈Arrow Protection⌋, traveling through areas without cover had its risk increased tenfold.

And without ⌈Heat Resist⌋... ordering Heartsong to act separately from the squad was suddenly a not-terrible solution.

Zash squeezed her eyes closed, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.

"It'll be tough... but we still have to capture the point-- even though Barnes and Lane are..."

Her words stuck in her throat when struck by a sudden realization.

She couldn't remember the last time they checked on Barnes.

Heartsong seemed to notice something first. The elf narrowed her eyes and made a grim expression.

Selvia's expression twisted for a brief moment, but then she lowered her head as if she understood.

"Okay... wh-what's going on?" Dessi asked, her voice cracking with worry. "You two just did... an elf thing. I saw it. Hello? Moshi moshi? Someone, please... say something?"

"It's... Lane," Heartsong whispered.

"What about her?" Dessi tilted her head. "Did I miss something? Is she talking crap in her sleep again?"

"I'm sorry, but... she's no longer breathing."

Zash felt her eyes growing hot.

Lane got the moment of silence she wanted.

"Oh," Dessi gulped... "O... oh..."

Zash had to look away from Dessi as quiet tears began to stream down the taller woman's face.

If she got caught up in her emotions, she'd start crying too.

Heartsong reached over, closing Lane's eyes, before pulling her blanket up to cover her face.

"Rest in peace, Samantha Lane. You... you were cool."

Selvia hurried over to Dessi, embracing her tightly. "Ohhh, everythin's gonna be alright, little one."

Despite the obvious height difference between the tiny elf and an above-average-height 'humie' woman, Dessi accepted the hug.

...Was it really going to be alright, though?

"How's Barnes?" Zash said as she massaged the bridge of her nose.

Heartsong's long ears twitched, "She's breathing, Zash... and her mana's still stable-- thank the stars."

"N-no, it's okay," Dessi said as she pushed Selvia away. "I was ready for this-- I mean... when Laney got hurt... we all knew that we weren't equipped to fix that kind of injury."

Heartsong looked away, biting her lip. Was she feeling guilty? Zash wondered if this was the elf's first combat, after all.

"Dessi..." Zash said, "Can you still go on? We need your powers."

"Y-yeah... I can still fight," She said. "Just... just give me a few minutes. Once I... can ⌈Stealth Bubble⌋ again... once I... once..."

Selvia pulled Dessi close once again, "When yer ready to go, child... we stop waitin' fer the reaper and we start sendin' folks his way."

...

⟬ Some time later... ⟭

"Here. Drink this."

"Oh, how sweet. But no, I'm alright, darlin'."

"Selvie... please."

Heartsong's voice was barely a whisper, but it screamed of sincerity.

Or was it... desperation?

"Well, shucks. If y'make that kinda face, then I guess I can't say no, can I?"

That was Selvia's voice.

Zash heard the pop of a bottle cork.

Then, there was the quiet glug of someone drinking.

"Mm. I was expectin' somethin' warm on account of yer-- you know."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't make this."

"You didn't? But isn't this... a Moonwell recipe? Tastes almost exactly like somethin' I had when I was younger."

"It... it is, but--"

"Well, I don't wanna sound ungrateful-- but stars and stones, girl. How did you get this?"

Zashleigh grit her teeth and shook her head. She had gotten distracted. As interesting as the conversation between Selvia and Heartsong was, Zash had a mission.

It wouldn't be wrong to say that the entire operation hinged on her success.

That is... the entire offensive would be ground to a screeching halt if she couldn't perform.

Throughout her adult life-- over a period spanning years, (years that probably should have been the best years of a young woman's life,) Zash had been preparing to ⌈Spellbreak⌋ dragon magic.

She placed her calloused hand at the center of the largest Spell Circle.

She took a breath... steeling her spirit.

And sweeping her arm down in a swift motion, she broke--

...one of her fingernails.

Zash smacked her forehead against the wall.

Selvia found the formation, actual. Like she said, there were enemies patrolling the area.

Zeta Squad engaged with the soldiers of City-State Making... men and women that were supposed to be their compatriots.

Spells were cast. Lives were lost-- thankfully, none of them Witches.

If all went well, Lane would be the only one...

The corner of the dragon formation was scrawled on the inside wall of an evacuated pottery shop. The Witches of Zeta Squad secured the windows and exits and Zash was given all the time in the Realm to do what she needed to do...

It took her over ten minutes to parse even a single function.

She thought she was better than that.

It... hurt... so very much that she wasn't.

The runes were familiar to her-- with a few exceptions, but none of the lines made any coherent sense.

According to Zashleigh's limited knowledge... the formation she beheld should have been inert. It shouldn't have worked. It should have been a joke-- the scrawlings of an illiterate manchild.

Yet... the formation was unmistakably active.

Thus, she had to make *several* educated assumptions about *multiple* lines of script based on her *rudimentary* understanding of formations at their most *basic* level.

Thankfully, her latest failure had a silver lining. By a stroke of luck, Zash had attempted to modify a single, inessential sequence.

--which failed. It failed to the point where she was f*cking bleeding.

But with that, she was able to discard two of her five assumptions.

--and from the best of what remained... was the notion of the formation being a redundancy array.

If she was right, the pottery shop wall served as a non-integral support of Making's innermost defensive layer.

Zash flipped through her notes like a madwoman, reading and re-reading the runes she'd translated thrice over.

Five?

Five.

The innermost layer was supported by five mirrored arrays... at most.

In theory, though, those arrays were equidistant from a central terminal. If Zash could get access to that, she was... at least 30% confident that she could shut down the formation in its entirety.

The MMDS of City-State Making... the crowning achievement of a hundred or more techno-magically adept geniuses over the course of the last decade...

--and Zash was about to make it her f*cking B*tch.

(B*tch with a capital B.)

And THEN, she'd get some sort of medal-- for sure!

President Bella would give it to her, naturally-- and the Commander would be in attendance.

The Sol Invictus Commander... the President's former employer...

Maybe that person would be impressed? Zash was fairly certain that the current her was equal or better than the Bella of the Ezyrian Arena.

But catching the Commander's eye was only the beginning. From there, the pressure would only increase as she continued to strive for excellence.

Then... once enough living legends knew her name... she would be legendary, herself.

Zash clenched her eyes shut.

Though she could dream as she liked, it did nothing to change her immediate situation.

She couldn't do a damn thing with the glyphs in front of her.

--but that didn't mean they were useless.

The formation had one more secret it was keeping from her... if it was even there, to begin with.

The Central Terminal...

If Zash could find that... if she could glean even the tiniest hint on where to find it... that could bring her one step closer to her goal...